waking into moons of yesterday
by matchboxcars
Summary: He would, for those first uncounted increments of time, be characterized in Kirk’s mind as a man of great solitude and mental impact. mild slash, complete
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine

Author's note: So normally, I don't write anything all that long, just little character study snippet things, but I'm gonna spice up my life. Or yours, however you want to look at it, even though this is only my second Star Trek fic, and your lives are probably just fine as is…or maybe not. If that's the case, I'm sorry, read my story! If it is, read it anyway! Ok, I'm done please review!

Kirk had taken one look at Spock, alone, in the mess, late at night, when almost no one was there, and had been drawn to him. He would, for those first uncounted increments of time, be characterized in Kirk's mind as a man of great solitude and mental impact. But mostly solitude. The first time he approached Spock for a game of chess, Spock had simply nodded, but the captain could see the stiffening of the shoulders, and wondered who had hurt this man, why.

Gary died, and Kirk beamed back to his ship thinking himself a murderer. The next day he asked his first officer why his entire crew had not read him the riot act. Spock's reply had been to look into his eyes and softly say " You believe that you are a murderer, and therefore your crew should neither trust you or wish to remain under your command. That is illogical. You have killed, yes, and someone who I believe, that, as a human, you felt strong emotion towards, but you killed out of necessity and without malice. And you are not without regret. They remain with you because you chose them over your friend, and, perhaps more importantly, yourself". Later, in the same week, late at night, Spock had awoken him from a nightmare, handed him a glass of water and comforting words, and Kirk, in his current state of grief and despair, had only the presence to whisper " I miss him". Spock had looked at him with eyes so understanding and expression so hard, and with eternal gentleness, said " I know".

He wondered who had hurt this man, why. But walking around the enterprise, he knew that there were too many people and Vulcans and who knows what other creatures to count. Spock had been ostracized his whole life. Spock hated himself. "Illogical", Jim thought to himself, " the way Spock is alienated". He glanced over to the science station, watched the figure that inhabited it move gracefully with such control, such precision, and he wondered at the softness of his voice when he informed Uhura that he had repaired subspace communications; he wondered that the softness was still intact. Spock was rarely harsh, and, as Jim watched him, he was surprised at this, for those who have been abused by others normally become abusive themselves, for defense, for resignation. But not Spock, never Spock, not this brilliant alien who played beautiful music and analyzed and gave answers faster than the computer, not this brilliant man who had somehow allowed himself close to Jim, not Spock.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors Note: here's chapter two, please review with pointers and advice and stuff!! )

It took him quite some time to realize that he was in love with the Vulcan hybrid, and when he did, it was quiet in passing, as Spock had always been. The fear was more violent.

They had beamed down to the planet together, to explore and collect data. Something had gone wrong, as happens far too often in the lives of the two officers. This time was different than all the rest, was somehow, worse. The indigenous people of the planet, humanoid, were highly telepathic, and strong in their abilities. The indigenous people of the planet were full of malice. With the prime directive still intact, Kirk and Spock had walked right into the middle of their city and sighed inwardly as they were taken prisoner one more time, wondering if, this time, they would actually die.

Death would have been easier. They scanned through Kirk's mind with no pain, no feeling, Kirk didn't even know that they had been there. They said nothing, simply moved to Spock, who's face was now solid stone, his body tense.

" Him, we will need to touch", the apparent leader had said, pointing to Spock.

And touch him they did, even though the first officer attempted to neck pinch and fight them with all his Vulcan strength. Jim watched him, desperately lashing out to avoid their invasion. They were stronger, he failed, and then the leader, a tall woman with spindly fingers and an aged face reached out and yanked him towards her. Spock had exhaled sharply, but to Kirk, that simple forcing of the lungs was a scream, was terror. He had yelled his first officers name, but to no avail. He stood as a block of ice and watched the woman force her way through Spock's mind, that intricate, perfect mind. He read the expression on Spock's face, realized that his friend was in pain, immense pain, and fighting with all he had to force the woman out of him. Finally, she removed her long hands away from Spock's face; Spock collapsed.

They beamed up and when Jim looked at Spock, who was now standing perfectly still in the transporter, he had simply said,

" I need to meditate"

Jim watched him walk away, his lithe form moving more stiffly than normal, and had been tempted to follow, if only to watch him lower onto the meditation mat.

It took him some time to realize just what had been done to Spock, the repercussions, the fact that Spock would never speak to anyone about it unless it was a command. It was midnight, on the cusp of being two days since they left that god-forsaken planet. It was midnight, he was reading and realizing. It was midnight, when he heard the sounds of retching coming from his first officer in their shared bathroom.

It was as he carefully laid his hand on the trembling Vulcan's back and led him back to his bed with a glass of water that he realized he was in love, with all of its intensity and whims, in love. He had asked Spock if this bout of illness was an after effect of having his mind forced open; instead of answering, Spock had flinched.

"I'm sorry" Jim whispered

" It is of no consequence"

Had Jim been capable of anger at that point, he would have slammed his fist down onto the bedside table. But instead, he found that he could only whisper through his terrified lips,

"Yes, it is"


	3. Chapter 3

Kirk had spent that night anxiously watching his friend alternate between bouts of violent sickness and horrible nightmares that Spock would not speak about but Kirk decided were composed mostly of pain and toned in azure. Spock would not let Kirk touch him until three in the morning, when, wracked with tremors from being awoken once more, he found himself too exhausted to support his person and leaned into his captain, even though he was not able to keep his shields at maximum any longer. Spock slept for an hour without gasping. Jim let a tear escape his eye when he knew the one in his arms could not see it and apologize for being the one that caused its presence.

Kirk left quietly in the morning, before Spock awoke, wanting to avoid having to reassure the first officer that he had not been out of line, and preferring to avoid Spock's shame at his human half altogether. He had not expected Spock to call out his name just before the door opened. He had not expected the way his voice had changed from flat to something with, emotion?

But if there was emotion in that slight sounding of a name, Jim knew that foremost it was fear. Something in him wanted Spock to never feel such a thing, especially never when saying his name. Before him laid a man curled into a ball, having not moved since he fell asleep two hours ago, before him laid redemption.

Jim Kirk does not remember that he sent a message to the bridge saying that neither him or Spock would be there that day, that they were ill. Jim Kirk does not remember ever leaving the dry heat of the Vulcan's cabin, though he apparently did, later, to go to the mess, speak with McCoy, and grab the duty sheets that needed signing. What he does remember is Spock, his eyes when he tiredly closed them when Jim returned from the door, his voice, harsh, as it would only be towards himself, asking no one in particular,

"What is wrong with me?"

Kirk had answered with all truth and no charm,

"Nothing, nothing at all. What they did to you was the equivalent of rape, there is nothing wrong with you at all, you're perfection"

Spock had not believed him, a being time worn to believe he embodied imperfection and impurity by simply existing. But Jim looked at him, intensity flashing in those gold eyes, and one rusted out wheel in the far corner of Spock's mind sprung to life, and Spock realized that he was loved. And in love.

People so in tune with each other do not second guess a transition in their relationship. They simply float on it, and when the storm comes, sink to the bottom of the ocean to wait it out with rainbow fish and hidden treasure. Before this time, Spock's solitude and mental impact had always struck Kirk. But mostly his solitude. But as he brushes his lips with Spock's, and holds him quietly in his arms, he wants to live for two hundred years, if only so Spock will not die alone, because for Spock to feel solitude again would leave Jim's world to tumble down like a child's building blocks. Spock is calmly silent now, asleep against Jim's chest. And Kirk wonders if Spock was ever really held by anyone, or if his granite father had severed that human necessity before it had even been sampled. He wonders about pain knowing that it is less for Spock now than it has been before. Knowing that now, after so long, there is a lake in the desert that had become part of Spock's soul.


End file.
